Run the Wild Beat - an alternate universe Flandus fanfic
by ReedusIsMyGod
Summary: Norman Reedus' character Lucien Carr from the film "Beat" and Sean Patrick Flanery's character Tom Walker from the film "Run the Wild Fields" meet in 1940s New York and fall into an uneasy romance. *PS - I only selected "Boondock Saints" as the category because the two films mentioned were not available choices. THIS IS NOT A BDS FANFIC!


*******Like I always do in my stories, I must state beforehand that the following fanfic is not in any way meant to insinuate anything about the sexuality of the actors involved. I just have an unclean and unhealthy obsession with all things Flandus, and writing them in various sexual situations together as different characters that they've played and even them themselves is my way to purge that fixation.**

**This is an AU story involving the characters Lucien Carr as portrayed by Norman Reedus in the movie "Beat" and Tom Walker as played by Sean Patrick Flanery in the movie "Run the Wild Fields." I got the idea after watching both films in one night and thinking since they both take place in ****the same time period (the biggest part of "Beat" in 1946, "Run the Wild Fields" in 1945), what it would be like if these two characters met. And fell in love...**

**Okay, follow me here as I set up the story. Those that have seen both films know that Norman's character Lucien Carr returns to New York at the end of "Beat" and Sean's character Tom Walker is in North Carolina, but at the end of "Run the Wild Fields" he takes off down the road, it shows him hitching a ride in the boxcar of a train, and it never explains where he goes. I figure since the character is a drifter, it's not a huge stretch he could end up in New York, where Lucien is. That's where this story takes place. So now that it's set up, enjoy!***

**Run the Wild Beat – an AU Flandus fanfic**

**By Robin Stradley (ReedusIsMyGod)**

**Chapter 1: A New Face in a Familiar Crowd**

Lucien walked into his favorite bar that sat at the corner of the street he lived on. He'd gone there every afternoon for almost a year since moving to a new apartment. It was always the same crowd: Benny, the neighborhood bum, John, the 76-year-old married man who stayed at the bar from opening until closing in order to avoid his wife, and a group of four 40-something divorced girlfriends that played pool and flirted with any man that gave them a second glance in an effort to obtain free drinks. The rest were a bunch of quiet alcoholics that didn't really stand out. But there were always the same faces, and Lucien took comfort in the fact that they would always be at the bar, never changing. Until today. As soon as he walked in and took a seat on a stool at the bar, he immediately noticed an unfamiliar visage at the other end of it. A quiet stranger that hid beneath a floppy hat and intermittently sipped on a beer, looking as though he wished he would turn invisible so he could hide from the world. Lucien stared at him unnoticed, in quiet wonder. After some time, he felt a growing magnetic pull toward the stranger and he felt as though he couldn't stay away. He lit a cigarette, stood up from his seat with intent, and walked straight up to an empty stool next to the stranger.

"Anyone sittin' here?" he asked quietly.

"No," the stranger replied matter-of-factly without looking up at Lucien, who shrugged and quickly took a seat on the stool.

"Want one?" he asked, holding his pack of cigarettes toward the stranger.

"Sure, thanks," answered the stranger, reaching out a hesitant hand to carefully remove one from the pack. He still made no effort to make any eye contact with Lucien.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Lucien asked; some indescribable desire to know more about this man pulsating through him from an unknown origin. He wasn't sure whether to be suspicious of the man or curious about him.

"No. What gave me away?" asked the stranger unenthusiastically.

"That accent, for one," smiled Lucien, "it's not very often one comes across a Southern drawl in New York."

For the first time, the stranger looked up at Lucien, a slightly amused smirk peeking from under his floppy hat.

"What brings you here?" Lucien attempted to push the conversation further.

"Nothin' specific," the stranger answered in almost a whisper, "just sort of rolled in and landed."

"What's your name?" inquired Lucien.

"Tom. Tom Walker."

"Good to meet you, Tom. I'm Lucien," he said with a polite smile as he extended his hand toward Tom, who stared at it momentarily like he didn't know what to do next. He slowly grasped Lucien's hand and gave a slight squeeze and shake. His hands were rough and calloused, and Lucien was slightly taken aback.

"Your hands are rough," he remarked, "you a laborer or something?"

"Farm work mostly," replied Tom quietly. Lucien refrained from asking anymore questions (even though he had a hundred or more bubbling inside him) in an effort to let Tom carry the conversation. His attempt was met with stone silence, save for the low murmur of the other bar patrons.

"Well, I can tell I'm bothering you, so I guess I'll fuck off," said Lucien with an obvious tone of offense as he briskly stood from the stool.

"You don't have to," said Tom with a slight hint of desperation as he at last turned to look Lucien in the eye. Lucien paused as he looked back at him with a questioning gaze.

"In fact," continued Tom after a brief pause, "it's kinda nice to have somebody to talk to. Been a while. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to seem rude. I just ain't very good with people's all."

Lucien hesitated before retaking his seat back onto the stool. He looked over at this man, finding himself becoming intrigued by the air of mystery he was giving off. Lucien wasn't often surprised by the reactions of people, but he'd thought for sure this man had no interest in talking with him. The fact that he was apparently wrong attracted him to the situation even further.

"So uh...," began Tom, desperately searching for something to converse about, "what do you do?"

"I'm a copy boy at United International. Before that, I was a beat writer," replied Lucien. He watched as a look of confusion and unfamiliarity spread across Tom's face.

"A what writer?" Tom asked, embarrassed that he didn't know exactly what Lucien was referring to.

"Beat writer. Uh...reporter, easily put," he smiled warmly, trying to ease Tom's obvious unease. Seeing Lucien's understanding and non-judgmental nature made Tom relax a little. If there was one thing he despised, it was feeling dumb in front of other people.

"Can I buy you a drink, Tom?" asked Lucien suddenly, seeing that Tom might want the subject changed, "looks like your beer's gettin' a little low there."

Tom smiled graciously and gave a slight nod to indicate a 'yes.'

The pair drank, talked, and smoked cigarettes for several hours, getting to know one another. Lucien was both frustrated and captivated that Tom didn't reveal very much about himself. When Lucien had asked where he was from, he simply replied, "North Carolina." No city, just the state. When he asked where he had previously come from before ending up in New York, the answer was, "Oh...here and there." Lucien suddenly realized he had talked to this man for over three hours and the only things he knew about him for sure was his name and the state he was from, and this fascinated him to no end. Tom was not the type of character that Lucien normally drew, or was drawn to for that fact. Tom represented something unknown and possibly exciting to him, and he knew he couldn't let this less than revealing conversation be the extent of their acquaintance.

"So where ya stayin'?" asked Lucien after a string of half-answered questions.

"Uh...no place really," answered Tom faintly.

"Your just full of information, aren't you?" teased Lucien, "'Here and there,' 'No place really.' Where were you before you came into this bar?"

"Last night I slept in a park," answered Tom honestly, blushing slightly from his unsavory situation and the revelation of such. He could just imagine what his new acquaintance thought of him. Unbeknownst to him, the answer enchanted Lucien even more. Lucien was always attracted to chaos, and he thrived on it. Becoming familiar with the likes of a Southern drifter was definitely a situation he had never experienced before, and the promise of where it could lead made his head swim with wonder.

"Well, not tonight," Lucien said after a moment of consideration, "tonight you will be staying with me. I'm just down the street. What do you say? I must warn you though, I'm not accustomed to taking no for an answer."

Tom glanced over at his peculiar new friend with uncertainty, but there was something about the way Lucien smiled at him in anticipation of a response that made him unable to turn down his offer.

"Are...are you sure? I mean, you don't know me from Adam," Tom asked.

"Maybe that's why I _am _sure. It could be an adventure. You might kill me, rob me blind, or become my new best friend. Let's find out together, shall we?" Lucien smirked as he took a long, slow drag off his cigarette. His reply made Tom smile and slightly scoff. He looked down into his beer, but felt the burning gaze of Lucien, who was still waiting on a response. He looked back into Lucien's eyes, and feeling something inviting in them, heard himself saying "Okay" before his brain had fully decided on the matter.

"Great! Follow me," said Lucien with great enthusiasm as he stood up, taking one final drag of his smoke before extinguishing it in the ashtray that sat atop the bar between him and Tom and quickly downing one final shot of whiskey. Tom took one last sip of his beer and a deep breath before grabbing the duffel bag that sat on the floor against his right leg, standing up, and following Lucien out of the bar and into the New York night. This was his second night spent in the state, and he was again surprised that it didn't get put to bed with the sun like everywhere else he'd been before. In fact, it seemed to come more alive at night.

The pair walked for approximately five minutes together without saying hardly anything to one another. Finally, Lucien gestured to a building just ahead and said, "This is me," as he grabbed the handle of a large door that led into the entryway of an apartment building.

"I'm afraid we've got a bit of a climb here," he said as Tom began to follow him up a flight of stairs, "but you look like you're in good shape," he added and smiled slyly over his shoulder at a bewildered Tom. After walking up three flights, Lucien finally stopped in front of a door that looked identical to a hallway lined on both sides the same door and began inserting a key. Tom felt somewhat disoriented as he noted a single set of gold numbers on the door which read "17C." The door came open and a flood of soft and warm, welcoming light spilled out into the hallway; a sharp contrast to the cold, bright lights of the rest of the building.

"I always leave a light on when I'm not at home," commented Lucien as they entered the apartment, "that way I don't have to arrive to total darkness in a place where my heart supposedly resides."

He glanced at Tom, who once again appeared clueless.

"You know, the old saying 'home is where the heart is'?" probed Lucien.

"I wouldn't know," replied Tom with a defeated simper.

"You must have family...friends...someone who misses you?" asked Lucien.

"Nah...," Tom answered uncomfortably, "family's all passed. And I ain't got no friends to speak of, really."

"Well," sighed Lucien, "sometimes those things are more of a bother than a virtue anyway. Come in, make yourself at home. You want a beer?"

"Sure," said Tom, "thank you."

He awkwardly made his way to a pale colored couch that sat in the middle of a modest sized living area. He seemed almost unsure as he slowly and hesitantly took a seat on one end of the couch as Lucien opened his refrigerator and selected two bottles of beer. He glanced into the living room at his mysterious house guest as he popped the tops off of the beers. Neither man said a word as Lucien joined Tom in the living room, sat in an adjacent easy chair, and reached over to hand Tom his beer. They both took a drink of their beverages as silence seemed to resonate throughout the apartment.

"I'll uh...get you a blanket and a pillow. The couch is comfortable enough to sleep on I suppose," said Lucien as he stood up and headed toward a small linen closet in the back of the apartment. He took a deep breath and blew it out quickly, feeling a mixture of uneasiness and intrigue as he headed back toward the front of the apartment. Tom had finally removed his worn hat for the first time that evening, and Lucien was surprised by how different he looked – meek and baby-faced; quite the contrast to the dark and mysterious he appeared to be just moments before. Lucien slowly sat down the blanket and pillow on the opposite end of the couch from where Tom sat nervously and returned to his seat in the easy chair.

"So what's your story, man? I mean, what brings you here? Straight answer this time," he grinned at Tom.

"Straight answer? Okay...I fell in love with a woman who I thought might have been falling in love with me. I helped her plow the fields at her farm and plant a good crop. I got attached to her little girl. Then her husband returned home from the war. So I left," Tom answered with little emotion.

"Damn...," replied Lucien, "that's too bad. Were you fucking?"

"Sorry?" Tom asked, almost choking on a sip of beer and he was certain he hadn't heard Lucien correctly.

"Had. You. Fucked. Her?" Lucien asked slowly, with annunciation.

"Uh...," Tom uttered, "no. No, I hadn't."

"Fuck," shrugged Lucien as he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, "that's really too bad then."

A grin of satisfaction spread across his face as he realized he had embarrassed Tom.

"Are you uncomfortable with that word? Fucking?" he taunted. Tom said nothing, just looked down at the floor as his cheeks turned a crimson hue, "is it the act or the word that embarrasses you so?"

"Both, I guess," answered Tom honestly. Lucien got a kick out of shocking people, and Tom was no exception.

"Maybe that means you haven't engaged in the act enough, you think?" Lucien continued on.

"I don't know," muttered Tom.

"When's the last time you were bestowed with such magnificence then?" Lucien probed. Again, his words were met with a look of confusion from Tom. "Simply put, when's the last time you got laid?"

"Oh. That," Tom said as he fidgeted uneasily, "I...I'm not sure...exactly."

"Oh, well then," Lucien said as he threw his hands in the air playfully, "then it's been too long!"

"Well I...I never stay put in one place long enough to um...to find someone I'm interested in...in doing that with," Tom managed to say.

"What a shame," Lucien said sincerely, "what a shame."

A couple more hours passed with the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke swirling about Lucien's apartment as the two engaged in casual conversation before deciding to call it a night. Lucien had refrained from saying anything else to further embarrass Tom because he was actually becoming ashamed of his antics due to the look on Tom's face, and shame was _not _a feeling that Lucien was very familiar with. There was just something about Tom's demeanor that caused him to be curious about him, yet take pity upon him at the same time. Lucien bid his house guest goodnight before going to his bedroom, but not before stopping in the doorway to look back at Tom with natural and childlike inquisitiveness and even growing fondness as he watched him carefully spread the blanket he had given him across the couch. He closed his bedroom door and removed his day wear, selecting a pair of light blue and white striped cotton pajama pants. He sat on the edge of his double bed and pulled a small, tattered book from his nightstand. He flipped to the middle of the book and pulled out a group photo of himself and his friends, before everything had gone so terribly wrong. He zeroed in on Dave and Allen; each on either side of him, smiling widely like they were thinking of a secret that no one else knew. He shuddered as he remembered the moment that photo was taken and how Dave seemed to instinctively throw his arm around Lucien's shoulders as soon as someone suggested a photo be taken. He thought nothing of it at the time. If he only knew then what that subtle touch meant. He put the photo back in the book and the book back in the nightstand, laid down in bed, and clicked off the lamp that sat atop his nightstand. He placed an arm under his head as he stared at the ceiling, thinking about his cryptic new friend in the next room and wondering if Tom was plagued by demons like he was. As he felt his eyelids grow heavy until they closed, he drifted off to sleep with the image of Tom in his head, an almost angelic vision with his own sad tale to haunt him at night.

***Thanks for reading! I will post further chapters as I write them, and trust me, it's gonna get good :) Comments and suggestions welcome!***


End file.
